


Juxtapositions

by absurdvampmuse



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absurdvampmuse/pseuds/absurdvampmuse
Summary: Betty/Jughead (Bughead). In between episode 3 & 4 /Betty discovers his secret & confronts him./Betty had seen him slip away as if he had a secret to keep so she traced his steps back to the movie theater.Film reels were everywhere she looked but scattered throughout she spotted items that didn’t belong. The entire room was a reflection of the boy who had been calling this his home.  “Juggy,” she said his name softly as she attempted to hand him a lifeline, something to clutch onto so he wouldn’t spiral downwards too far.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the comic books or the TV series. I am merely borrowing the characters. And all I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.
> 
> A/N: One more story to tide us all over until the next episode. I really hope you'll enjoy it. I know I've devoured most of the Bughead stories on here. I would be incredibly grateful if you left behind your thoughts? I'm off to read yet another piece of fanfiction and/or scour Tumblr for Bughead content. Thank you so much! :)

**Juxtapositions**

_And despite his bad reputation, he will be the one that makes her feel safe._

Betty had seen him. She had witnessed him slip away when he thought no one was paying attention and walk away as if he had a secret to keep. Instinctively, she had followed him, both surprised and curious when he had led her to the Twilight Drive-In and disappeared inside through the backdoor with his employee key. Jughead hadn't come back out and not knowing quite what to make of it, she had left.

Yet, a couple of days later, on a Sunday morning, Betty couldn't fight the urge any longer, the feeling that something wasn't right. She traced his steps back to the movie theater. It was one of those quiet and crisp mornings on which most people were still lounging in bed or out for a late breakfast with friends. Her restlessness had woken her early and she had left the house swiftly and thoughtlessly in the slightly cropped flamingo pink t-shirt she had gone to bed in over a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and white sneakers. Her initial intention had been to go for a walk to clear her mind, but instead, her feet had carried her with a destination in mind and brought her to the same door Jughead had slipped through a few days before.

Betty tried the door, expecting to find it unlocked since there was usually an employee or two around who had gotten stuck with cleaning or preparing for some kid's party. She had never been inside the drive-in before and found the inside smaller than she had pictured it to be, the short hallway leading to a single room that acted as a storage space as well as held the movie projector. Film reels were everywhere she looked, but scattered throughout she spotted items that didn't belong: a plaid shirt slung over a chair, a pair of black ripped jeans left on the floor, paperbacks stacked on the bed and empty soda cans discarded on the desk. A bag that had clothes spilling from it sat in front of the bed, the entire room a reflection of the boy who had been calling this his home.

Sadness sunk into her bones, leaving her heart heavy. So many questions filled her head. Betty reached for the cell phone she remembered leaving at home after which she realized that Jughead didn't carry one anyway. In her current powerlessness, she lowered herself on the cot Jughead had been using as a bed as she looked around the room once more.

On his bed was where Jughead found her. A sudden and vivid pop of color amid the gray and charcoal, an intentional eye-catcher to draw in his gaze. She lay on her back, one hand curled close to her head while the other was sprawled on the sliver of bare skin that peeked out from beneath the ridden-up shirt. She looked comfortable as if it was something she had done before like she had been in his room before when really they had never been close enough. Each being the third wheel in their respective relationship with Archie. He sometimes wondered if she was as aloof as she seemed while she questioned if he was too aware of everything going on around him. But if he were honest with himself he knew that there were secrets behind those beguiling baby blues while she was aware of the fact that his inquisitive regard for others was a distraction, a way to keep the world and its people at bay.

Figuring that she most likely needed the rest, Jughead moved around the room as if he wasn't there at all, having experience in the act. He considered grabbing his laptop but didn't want to risk waking her prematurely so he settled on a book. He sat back in the single chair in the room, resting his feet on the table. He was on the 4th chapter when her eyes fluttered open, sleep still lacing her limbs as she sluggishly rolled onto her side, eyes instantly finding him.

You didn't wake me," she said in a tone that was supposed to be accusatory though the sharpness fell short.

"You needed it," Jughead declared simply. He held up the open book. "Plus, I've been meaning to reread this."

Her eyes didn't flick to the title of the novel in his hands but remained focused on him. "This is your room," she stated. "Is it that bad at home?" Betty knew that his father struggled religiously with his sobriety as well as maintaining a steady job. It wasn't a secret in this town, but it still hurt since Jughead knew that Betty's source had most likely been a more reliable one and that meant that Archie hadn't managed to keep his mouth shut.

"Dad," he started, lowering his eyes to the pages in front of him as if the solution was right there if he only knew how to interpret the words. "He tries. But after so many times, I don't want to be there and watch him fail over and over. He barely noticed whether I was there or not. It's more peaceful like this. For me."

Betty pushed herself upwards and his eyes shot upwards, her intent clear to him before her feet had managed to find the floor. He got up instead, the book already forgotten on the desk. He paced over to one of the many shelves, arms crossed as he pretended to go through the titles on the film reels.

"Juggy," she said his name softly as she attempted to hand him a lifeline, something to clutch onto so he wouldn't spiral downwards too far.

He recognized the benign intent behind it, even when he felt the anger flare up inside of him, cracking his outer shell. He lost his hold on it as if it were a rope that was being forcibly yanked out of reach. The emotion was misplaced, an inevitable reaction to all the things he had been keeping to himself. And like an out of body experience, he heard and saw the violent way the words left his mouth. "I'm not looking for your pity or help. You weren't even supposed to know. I'm doing just fine." He didn't know whether he was reassuring the girl on his bed or himself. He turned from the shelf to look at her, features set and hard as he continued. "You tell me who's doing better, me, who's on my own or you, stuck in that house with all of your family's lies and secrets all the while keeping up appearances and feigning as if your life is so perfect. Pretense breeds enervation." He delivered the final blow by simply nodding his head in her direction. "Just look at you."

Raw hurt cut through her expression suddenly and sharply and while she attempted to keep it all from showing because she knew this was just him lashing out, a symptom of his pain, the brave face she was putting on was crumbling.

Betty lowered her head, her chest tight and fingers pulling at the covers as she breathed through the tears that were so close to springing to her eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." She looked up at him through hooded eyes. "Like you said, you're doing fine." She got up, fingers curled inwards. "I should get home. But just so you know, those secrets and lies you're referring to, they aren't mine. They're my mom and dad's. And Polly's. I'd like to be free of them one day. Though, I suppose I'd hoped that my friends would already know this." She tried meeting his eyes once, but he looked at everything but her as he silently came to terms that perhaps he was much more broken than he would like to admit.

Betty took the few steps over to the door, but Jughead was faster. He stood in front of her, fingers on her wrist as he caught her before she could pull open the door. "Betts," he said her name as if he already knew how futile his words would seem. The damage was done and hadn't his mom taught him how irrevocable words could be? Still, he tried, pouring all of his regret and dissatisfaction with himself and his situation into the words. "I didn't mean those things."

Betty let out the breath she had been holding, long lashes still hiding her eyes from him. "I know. They still hurt, though." She mustered a watery smile. "But it's okay. You're sad and when people are sad they sometimes pretend they're doing just fine." She used his own words against him to prove a point, even though there was only concern in her expression when she finally looked at him. "Where are you going to stay once the Twilight Drive-In closes?"

Jughead looked young to her as he just shrugged, not having an answer for her. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed. "You're not alone in this, Jughead. We'll figure something out."

"That's why I didn't want anyone to find out. Especially you. It would be another thing for you to worry about."

She used her free hand to lightly shove against his chest, needing a physical release for the frustration she was feeling towards him. "You don't keep things from your friends just because you think it will worry them. That's what they're for. I'm for."

She tightened her hold on his hand and he smiled. "If I'm the Kettle you're the Pot."

"I'm fine," she told him, not wanting the light to fade from his eyes. She tried pulling her hand free, but Jughead wouldn't let her. A sigh escaped her. "There's something going on. My parents are lying to me about something. Something important. I just don't know what."

"Yet," Jughead fine-tuned her reply. "I'll be the Watson to your Holmes, Cooper."

He said it in a light way, taking the edge from their words, their secrets. Her gaze roamed over his face: the midnight locks so carelessly shoved beneath the crown beanie, the disarming conviction in his jaw and the kindness in his blue and green eyes. She worried about him. About what would happen to him when he already seemed unattached from the world and too derisive for his own good, cutting down not only others with his humor but also himself. But he was also so many other things that you only managed to catch a glimpse of if he let you get close enough. Unable to help herself, her other hand went up and she touched her fingers to his cheek.

"Don't retreat too much, Juggy. I would miss you too much." The words were cryptic but the emotion strong and genuine. It reverberated through him and it compelled him to tug at her hand and pull her against him, holding her to him. Betty's other hand clung to the shirt he was wearing while she pressed her face against his chest, inhaling him while his arm came around her waist. He wished he could take a snapshot of this exact moment, but he knew the restful feeling would be there every time he thought of it. The feeling of home.

"If I don't—can't figure out my situation, I'll let you know," he promised her. "Okay?" He whispered against her, her very feminine scent of vanilla and dandelions enveloping him, a wildness contained. Beautiful and fragile while simultaneously enduring and free. Her fingers were a slight and comfortable warmth against his chest, the thin fabric in between a nuisance, hindering a carnal connection.

He felt her nod against him. "Okay."

They stayed entwined for another breath or two, leaving their imprints on one another before disentangling.

"Let's go to Pop's. For lunch," Jughead suggested.

Betty looked down at herself, all of a sudden self-conscious of the bright pink shade of her shirt, the flash of bare skin. It was an insecurity brought on by her mother.

"Hey, at least you didn't sleep in your clothes."

Betty smiled at that, not thinking about the words too much. "I look fine," she agreed with him.

"Some would say more than fine even," Jughead leaned in and shared recklessly, his lips as close to her skin as they had ever been.

The colors of her cheeks deepened, the tone now closer to the shirt she was wearing. She didn't know where to look, though he offered her a distraction when he grabbed his denim jacket from a makeshift hook behind him and held it out to her. He had noticed how her arm had crept across her waist despite her words, or his.

Betty shrugged on his jacket without saying anything while he pulled on the flannel shirt he had tied around his waist.

Jughead opened the door for her, waiting for her to pass before he followed.

If people saw them, they would appear mismatched but it wasn't the external that bound them together, that mattered.

It was more deep-rooted than that.


End file.
